You're Beautiful
by Strawberry Pocky Stix
Summary: Scotland reminds France that he's beautiful. Three part Drabble Series, Auld Alliance, nongraphic?M-preg
1. Chapter 1

**I APPOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE WHO IS SCOTTISH. I CANNOT WRITE THE ACCENT.**

**And My French is probably wrong... No Translating, though... Sorry. But no.**

**I OWN NOTHING. Just the Sccotland OC, Angus K. Pilmore. He's-a mine~**

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><p>France gazed down at his lover, threading long, nimble fingers through silky, unruly red hair. Emerald eyes glanced up at him, gently kissing at a slightly raised scar on his stomach. France shuddered a bit, feeling a tingle of pleasure travel his body. Careful, calloused fingertips gently traced down his body and glazed green eyes followed their path.<p>

"…I…" France began softly, gazing down at Scotland with a little blush. "I don't know how you can look at me like this…" The other looked at him, face curious. "…The… the scars…" The Frenchman murmured, glancing away. "… They're… terrible… I'm not… pretty…" He finished lamely, attempting to draw his legs up and slowly wrapping his arms around himself to cover his naked body.

Scotland gazed at him for a moment; to see his France trying to hide himself; feeling so… insecure… He gently gripped France's wrists, moving his arms away and leaning down. He pressed a small kiss to a long scar across his chest, slowly moving them to his collarbone.

"…Yer right, France…" He whispered softly, moving up along his neck to his chin. "Ye aren't pretty…" Before France could respond, he gently kissed his lips, fingers threading trough soft blonde hair. The shorter man blinked, but gently kissed back, humming. Scotland gave his own hum at the feeling of France's hand running down his chest, teasing at his own scars. He gently pulled away, their lips barely lingering on each other. The blonde gently nipped at the redhead's lower lip before gazing up at him. The Scot smiled. "…Yer beautiful."

France blushed, looking away.

"_Non_… I-I'm not…" He muttered, gasping quietly as angry red scars were teased at by gentle, calloused fingertips.

"Ye are…" Scotland replied, gently kissing down his neck and collarbone. "Yer the most beautiful person I know…" France blushed, gazing down into green eyes. "I know why ye have the scars… I'm sharing yer pain, love… mine hurt, too… but they aren't terrible or hideous…" He whispered, gently kissing across a taut stomach. "They're part of who ye are; and tha's why I love ye…" He glanced up at France's brilliantly blue clouded eyes, small tears forming in them.

A delicate hand threaded through long, silky red hair and a soft smile graced even softer lips.

"…_Je t'aime… tellement beaucoup_…" He whispered. Scotland smiled softly, gently leaning up to kiss him.

"_Je t'aime, trop…"_ He whispered back. "_Mon bel amour_…"

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><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed~ Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~!<strong>_

_**-Sincerely yours, StrawberryPockyStix~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I APPOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE WHO IS SCOTTISH. I CANNOT WRITE THE ACCENT.**

**And My French is probably wrong... No Translating, though... Sorry. But no.**

**I OWN NOTHING. Just the Sccotland OC, Angus K. Pilmore. He's-a mine~**

* * *

><p>France pouted at the mirror, holding his shirt taut against his moderately rounded belly. He looked at it from the front, both sides, he even got another mirror and attempted to look from the back. After a good two hours of standing in front of the mirror, he turned to his lover with sad blue eyes, and with a slightly shaky voice, muttered the horrible realization;<p>

"…I'm… fat…" He stated in abject horror, small tears pricking at his eyes. Scotland glanced up from his books, pipe held firmly between his teeth as green eyes gazed at the Frenchman curiously.

"What?"

"I'm… fat…" France repeated. The Scot blinked before chuckling, placing down his book and pipe, uncrossing his blue jean clad legs and walking over to his… wife? … Significant other.

His arms wrapped around the Frenchman's waist, gazing at him in the mirror with a little smile.

"Francis," He murmured. "Ye aren't fat…"

"Yes I am!" The Frenchman exclaimed, pouting. "Look at this!" He held the shirt tighter against himself. Scotland gently kissed behind the blonde's ear, tucking some silky blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Ye aren't fat," He repeated again, moving his hand down to the obvious bump and smiling softly. "Yer glowing…" France continued to pout at him.

"Fat." He replied. Scotland frowned slightly, gently rubbing at the bump.

"No." France sighed, gently placing his hand over Scotland's.

"Don't try and make me feel better, _mon amour_," He murmured. "I want the truth… not lies…" He glanced into the determined greens of his lover.

"I'm not giving ye lies." He stated firmly. "You and I both know why ye look like this… And I couldn't be more proud… more thrilled… more excited…" A soft smile and a gentle squeeze. "…More in love with you… You're beautiful." The blonde paused for a moment, then smiled softly, gently rubbing over the obvious baby bump.

"… Really, Ecosse?" He murmured.

"… Really." France smiled, turning to him. Scotland smiled softly, gently leaning in to peck his lips. "I love ye…"

"_Je t'aime, trop, Ecosse_." The Frenchman murmured back, smiling softly. The redhead smiled, sinking to his knees slowly. The tip of his nose brushed France's stomach as he gently kissed the bump.

"I love, ye, too, little one…" France gave a little chuckle, looking over at the mirror. Scotland did the same, smiling.

"…What do you think it's going to be?" The blonde asked softly. The redhead glanced up at him, green eyes glittering.

"I dunno…" He murmured, gently kissing his belly again through the shirt. "But I hope they look like you…" France smiled softly, getting to his knees and wrapping his arms around his love's neck. He gently rubbed their noses together.

"Funny," He mused, humming. "I was just thinking the same about you…"

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><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed~ Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~!<strong>_

_**-Sincerely yours, StrawberryPockyStix~**_


	3. Chapter 3

**I APOLOGIZE(Yeah, I JUST fixed this typo. I'm lazy.) TO EVERYONE WHO IS SCOTTISH. I CANNOT WRITE THE ACCENT.**

**And My French is probably wrong... No Translating, though... Sorry. But no.**

**I OWN NOTHING. Just the Sccotland OC, Angus K. Pilmore. He's-a mine~**

* * *

><p>France sighed, tilting his head back a bit in his rocking chair. Little Perrault was in his arms, happily sucking away at his bottle. Bright blue eyes looked up at his mother, wide and innocent. The blonde smiled down at him, glancing over at Anita. She was curled up in Scotland's favourite chair, asleep, with a teddy bear tucked up and in her arms.<p>

Why bother moving her at four-thirty AM?

France sighed again; hair frizzy and tucked into a ponytail, eyes bloodshot and tired… He looked terrible. He gently pulled the bottle away from Perry and proceeded to gently bounce him and pat his back. The little redhead giggled when his mother tugged on his one little wayward curl that'd grown out first. Then he burped. France chuckled, cradling the little one in his arms.

He began to softly hum a lullaby, rocking back and forth and smiling as little Perry slowly fell asleep. He stood, cradling the baby in his arms as he walked to the room he shared with Scotland and placed him in the crib.

The Scot in the bed smiled softly.

"Out like a light?" He whispered. France smiled softly, tucking his bangs back and away from his eyes.

"_Oui_," He murmured back, slowly crawling into bed and rubbing his eyes. "Both of them."

"Good." France ran a finger through his ponytail with a sigh.

"_Mon dieu_," He muttered. "I look horrible…" Scotland frowned a bit.

"No, ye don't…" He murmured, gently taking the other's hand. France glanced over at him.

"… It seems like we've had this conversation before…" He mused.

"Aye, because ye always say ye look terrible, or yer ugly. Ye aren't."

"I am."

"Ye aren't. Ye are what ye are… and you are beautiful." Francis looked over at him.

"… You're happy with our life, right?" The scot paused, a bit taken aback.

"…'Course I am…"

"Well, I just thought, with you own nation to watch over-"

"France, I may love me own nation and the views behind it… But the most important view... the view I love the most... is the front porch of this house, looking in at our family." He explained. "A carrot-top who can barely walk with a sippy cup of milk… blue-eyed blonde with her shoes on wrong 'cause she likes to dress herself…" A smile. "And the most beautiful man holding both of them… yeah, I love that view…" France smiled over at him, gently leaning over to peck his lips.

"_Je t'aime, Ecosse_." He whispered.

"I love ye, too, France…" Scotland whispered back.

Then Perry started to cry. France sighed a bit;

"Duty calls…" He murmured. Scotland chuckled, standing.

"Nah… I've got 'im this time. Ye relax." France smiled up at him, yawning and snuggling down against the sheets.

"_Merci, Ecosse_." He murmured.

"No problem." Scotland murmured, kissing his forehead and walking over to the crib. He scooped the crying baby up into his arms and blew on his stomach, inducing a giggle. "All right, little one; let's see if we can't settle ye down…"

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><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed~ Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~!<strong>_

_**-Sincerely yours, StrawberryPockyStix~**_


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